


Phantoms

by SittingInACoffeeShop



Series: Promptober [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Mike Hanlon, Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, M/M, Memories, Mike Hanlon Deserves Love, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Mike is afraid of birds, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, October Prompt Challenge, Prompt Fic, Promptober, but this fic is kinda sad im sorry, hinted hanbrough, oh and, the other Losers are also mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingInACoffeeShop/pseuds/SittingInACoffeeShop
Summary: Mike felt as though a piece of him was missing. It was like a constant phantom pain that followed him everywhere.It tormented him on some days more than others. Mike had lost track of how many times he had pulled out the phone numbers of each of his friends, scribbled in and out along a wrinkly piece of old notebook paper. The urge to call even one of his old friends feeling especially strong in his heartache.He kept track of each of them. Every number they held; from landline home phones to the cell phones the world was rapidly shifting toward. He never failed to log them.From the outside looking in, such an activity might be considered creepy. But Mike found it necessary.Promptober Day 2: Haunted/Haunting
Series: Promptober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Phantoms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Promptober Day 2! 
> 
> So, I still haven’t read the book, but Chapter One and the flashbacks in Chapter Two make it seem as though the Losers went their separate ways after Pennywise’s initial defeat. That doesn’t make much sense to me since everyone (save for Beverly probably since she was going to live with her aunt) still continued to live in Derry.  
> So, my HC? They all stayed in Derry and graduated. As far as I know, there’s no proof stating otherwise.
> 
> On that note! Hope you enjoy my second contribution of Promptober (:
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

**Promptober Day 2:**

**Haunted/Haunting**

Derry, Maine felt like a ghost town.

It had felt as such for a long time. Twelve years to be exact.

At least, it felt this way to Mike Hanlon.

To Mike Hanlon, Derry was haunted.

Haunted with memories of his best friends who had long-since departed.

Mike felt as though a piece of him was missing. It was like a constant phantom pain that followed him everywhere.

It tormented him on some days more than others. Mike had lost track of how many times he had pulled out the phone numbers of each of his friends, scribbled in and out along a wrinkly piece of old notebook paper. The urge to call even one of his old friends feeling especially strong in his heartache.

He kept track of each of them. Every number they held; from landline home phones to the cell phones the world was rapidly shifting toward. He never failed to log them.

From the outside looking in, such an activity might be considered creepy. But Mike found it necessary.

And he would never forget the day when he realized that his friends had officially forgotten him.

_Mike idly fiddled with the eraser dust that littered the wooden surface of his desk. He had the telephone pressed to his ear, and each ring felt way too far apart. At the fifth ring, he anxiously began tapping his fingers instead._

_Finally, the other end clicked to life._

_“Hello?” a distracted and somewhat bothered voice answered._

_“Bill?”_

_“Yeah? May I ask who’s calling?”_

_If he couldn’t hear the beating so loudly in his ears, Mike would have sworn his heart stopped at that._

_“It’s Mike.”_

_Silence._

_“Mike...Mike who?”_

_Mike whipped the phone away from his ear as though it had burned him. He hung up so hard he was surprised his thumb didn’t break the button._

_And then he cried._

_He let the tears fall for the official, aching loneliness he knew he would have to endure for_ at least _another fifteen years._

Mike walked toward the section of trees that led to the ford. It was where he had officially met each of his friends the day they saved him from the Bowers gang. They were just kids then. Little thirteen-year-old Losers running around trying to save the town from an unspeakable evil. It honestly sounded like a fabricated game that children would play, but they weren't allowed such luxury.

No, for them it was real.

Mike waded through the trees and planted himself in the exact spot the Losers had stood their ground against the Bowers' gang. He kicked at the rocks a little and smiled fondly to himself.

He still had one of the rocks that Beverly threw; it had hit against Henry Bowers’ head with a very satisfying thunk.

He stayed in that spot for a bit, reminiscing. Memories of the youthful yet brutal Rock War ringing clear as day in his mind.

Mike strolled into town, passing the old slaughterhouse he used to work at as a kid with his grandfather. He could still hear the machines working, although the building had long since gone under and been abandoned. He could also hear his grandfather barking orders as well as the loud pop of the cattle gun that signaled another animal had been put to death.

He continued on past the old arcade, where he had watched Richie and Eddie play countless games of Street Fighter. The very soul of the place seemed to follow the two of them out of town. The place was no longer filled with their loud yammering, cursing, and pounding on the buttons and joystick.

Mike gave it another year before it officially shut down.

Mike walked past the pond in the park and sat on a bench for a little while. Resting while also taking the time to feed the ducks that he still...kinda feared.

Mike loved animals. He really did. But birds? Birds were different. They seemed a little more unpredictable than most other creatures. Stanley was the one to get him over the largest hump of that fear, though. He had taught him innumerable facts on various types of birds and...how could Mike be so afraid of something that brought his friend so much joy and peace?

Mike still couldn’t help but jump out of his skin though when he tossed another handful of hard peas onto the ground and one of the larger ducks quacked loudly, ferociously chasing another away.

After about an hour in the park, Mike finally made his way back to the library. He walked up the steps and unlocked the front doors. It was a Sunday, so the library wasn’t open.

Mike looked off toward the area that he and Ben would almost always be able to reserve for themselves. Ignoring the judgmental glances of any other kids who were merely forced there by their parents to get some homework done. Mike didn’t care about being labeled a geek or a nerd though. After all, some of his favorite times were spent in this library with Ben; excitedly sharing their thoughts on a book within their own little Reader’s Club of two.

Mike made his way up into the attic-turned-loft.

He dropped his keys on a small table and continued on his way to the wine rack to pick his poison for the night.

It was amazing he hadn’t read every single book in the library yet, but somehow he always managed to find something of interest.

He was starting a new book tonight, which was something to look forward to, he supposed.

He had to appreciate the little things these days.

It was a common schedule Mike clung to on the nights he wasn’t doing research on Derry’s past and the horrific cryptic clown that came with it. He would brew coffee or sip some wine and read after a walk around town through the same spots, same locations, same memories...

One place, though, stayed off his route.

He would rather walk along Neibolt Street with its horror-filled memories and stare into the empty, creaking, dirty maw of the Well House than spare the fleetest of glances at the home where Bill Denbrough used to live.

He couldn’t bear the thought of another family moving in and taking the spot of one of his dearest friends.

He couldn’t handle looking at it, not while knowing that the past inhabitant no longer knew who he was and held absolutely no memory of him or the times they shared.

It was just too painful.

Mike swallowed the lump down in his throat, blinked the wetness from his eyes, and opened his book.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> TW for mention of animal death
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://softplaidpajamas.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


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